


Blur

by TeelLilies



Series: Break [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Gen, Grief, Hanzo Shimada Is A Disaster, Hanzo Shimada Needs a Hug, Hurt No Comfort, I might make this into something but idk, Scion!Hanzo, Self-Loathing, Shame, Sojiro for father of the year, The Shimada Clan - Freeform, Vomiting, but also maybe not a hug, not a good ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeelLilies/pseuds/TeelLilies
Summary: Hanzo Shimada has never been a stable person. His brother's death did no good to remedy that.





	Blur

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I'm writing this for the wonderful Bluandorange on Tumblr! I know I've already done one thing for them before (An Exception (a mchanzo thing that ends way better than this)) But! I had to do something based on their Scion!Hanzo comic. (If you haven't seen it go check it out pleasee (http://bluandorange.tumblr.com/post/172778740405/hey-so-maybe-scion-is-after-hanzo-killed-genji)
> 
> Honestly full credit for the idea to them, I just wrote something based off of it!

Hanzo couldn’t breathe. 

He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the guilt that was throttling him, but he couldn’t, fucking, breathe. Not even the night air on his skin helped. The sting of the air just reminded him of waiting outside for his brother to stumble back onto the castle grounds, how he’d grab Genji by the back of the coat and haul his little brother back to his rooms. 

Genji had always leaned on him, had always apologized for being drunk or told Hanzo he wasn’t a bad brother for being a dick about him being out so late. It was better than the alternative, their father dealing with it. A few harsh words and a cuff over the back of the head was nothing compared to what kind of hell Sojiro Shimada could rain down on his sons. Especially Genji. 

But there was no Genji to stumble into him snorting about his night and gripping onto Hanzo’s shirt, even if Hanzo glared at him. 

Genji had always been carefree like that.

Had been…

Hanzo closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. He would not cry. He would not spill a tear over the disposal of a shame to the family. If only his father could see him, up at god knows when, struggling not to cry like a child over a simple disposal. 

It had been his duty, he’d disposed of Genji as his father had told him to. It was simply a matter of tying up loose ends. It didn’t matter the fear he’d seen in his brother’s eyes, the moment of terror when Genji realized he was going to die. 

The affair was simple, Hanzo had nearly cracked under the pressure from his father, and finally confronted his brother during sparring. Their practice swords were… significantly more blunt than real blades. So it had torn through Genji instead of slicing, and likely hurt more than any real blade when Hanzo cleaved down through Genji’s collar and cut his brother open from shoulder to hip. 

Genji made eye contact with him, bloodstained, with eyes wide with horror, and crumpled to the ground. 

Hanzo hadn’t stuck around, he couldn’t. He left Genji to die, alone. The floors had been stained with Genji’s blood for days. And it’d only been weeks before. 

It was with disgust that Hanzo realized the tears had struggled back up his throat and begun to fall. The vice tightened again around his throat, and he wheezed out a half-sob as he gripped the rail of the balcony. 

He was just as pathetic as his brother, crying over something that had just been part of his job as the clan heir. He was supposed to be the pawn of his elders, he did as he was told until he took up his father’s place. And he made the clan look good. If anyone needed to be killed to send a message, it was his job. He’d handled more than one execution in his time. 

It was just that usually, executions weren’t his own brother. 

The worst part was they hadn’t even honored Genji. Nothing was done about his death. They hadn’t even buried the body. And Hanzo had no say in the matter. There was no prayer, no burial, nothing. Surely Genji deserved that at least. 

Genji, the one who’d done his best to keep his older brother in good spirits when they were children. Who’d snuck his brother sweets when he was in hot water with the elders. Genji, who’d always stood by Hanzo, even when they’d grown apart. 

Hanzo felt himself lurch, feeling like he was going to be sick as the guilt surged up his throat. 

Or maybe it was bile. 

No it was definitely bile. 

Hanzo held onto the rail as his stomach expelled everything he’d eaten that day, tears burning his cheeks as he recovered, wheezing quietly. God he was pathetic, the last time he’d been sick over a death was the first time he’d been told to kill someone. He was young at the time, and it had made him ill. His father had been disgusted with such weakness. 

“Disgusting.” 

The voice startled Hanzo, had him closing his eyes to steel himself as he listened to his father’s footsteps cross the varnished boards of the balcony. It was only a moment before a hand closed around his bicep and he was wrenched around to face the head of the Shimada clan. He didn’t look pleased either. Lips pursed and cold eyes narrowed. Hanzo could see the man’s jaw working, muscles tense with anger. 

“This kind of behavior is pathetic.” Sojiro hissed, baring teeth at his eldest son as Hanzo forced himself to make eye contact with his father. He’d been struck too many times as a child for not doing so for him to forget. 

Had it been any other time, he would have drawn himself up, straightened his shoulders. But for the moment he was too upset to care. Whatever punishment his father doled out, he deserved, for killing his own brother. For tearing through Genji like he was worth nothing. 

“Such weakness dishonors your family Hanzo.” The elder man drew himself up, disgust curling his upper lip as he looked down at Hanzo, cruel. 

“How are you supposed to lead your clan when dispensing of one worthless life brings you to such a state?” Hanzo’s father spat, clearly furious. Hanzo dropped his eyes, shoulders falling. He wasn’t fit to be the clan leader. That he knew. He regretted it too much, felt too much guilt for what he’d done. A Shimada was ruthless, showed no remorse for dealing with such a situation like he had. 

The blow across his cheek was painful. It had Hanzo seeing stars as his father’s ring caught against his cheekbone, tearing skin open. 

“Clean yourself up, disgrace.” The elder man spat as Hanzo finally looked up again, through the hair in his eyes. Without another word his father wheeled and slunk off. Only when he’d long gone did Hanzo even raise a hand to his face. One to scrub tears away as another sob threatened to choke him. The other pressing against the tear in his cheek, finding the wound to be bleeding, but not deep. 

He did as he was instructed though, returning to his rooms and taking care of the wound on his face before falling into bed. 

That was where the tears flowed unchecked. Watching the moonlight shift over the floor, Hanzo couldn’t help but recall nights when Genji would sit by his window as a child after a nightmare. How his brother would rest his head against the sill, stars reflecting off of bright eyes as they sat in silence together. Sometimes Genji would scoot over under the window sill to lean against his big brother and fall asleep. 

He hadn’t come to Hanzo after nightmares in years. But Hanzo knew Genji still had them up until his death. His brother had always had nightmares. He’d just stopped letting Genji in. 

He’d turned his brother away, pushed him away when Genji needed him. When all his little brother needed was someone to lean on. 

The thoughts had Hanzo choking on his guilt, curling up on his side and bringing his hands up to his face as he struggled to muffle broken sobs. It wouldn’t do if any of his family heard him. They’d come see him in all of his grief, and only have similar things to say as his father. 

But dammit he missed his brother. All he wanted was to be able to go to Genji’s room, push the door open and see his brother sound asleep in bed. Or for Genji to come knock on his door before entering anyways, to come sit at the foot of his bed just so they could be in the same room. 

He wanted Genji back. 

But he’d taken his brother’s life with his own hands. Genji’s blood had stained his skin up to his elbows for a week. 

He was a monster. 

It was a week later that he couldn’t even stand his own reflection. 

He looked like everyone else in his family. Every other monster that had wanted his baby brother dead, who had coerced him into killing his own kin. The uncut hair was simply a mark of the tradition his family had upheld for generations. 

He didn’t fucking want it. 

Not any more. Once it had been a mark of pride. Hanzo had kept his head held high when Genji was punished for getting his own hair cut when he was a teenager, directly disobeying the clan’s wishes for him. And shortly after he’d dyed it green to further piss off their family. 

Hanzo had been drunk more often than he was sober for the past few weeks, and the night he snapped was no exception. Though perhaps he was more drunk than he typically was. Enough so that his vision swam as he stared his own reflection down. 

Before he could think, he grabbed a handful of his own hair, picking up the knife from the edge of his bathroom counter. 

With one swift movement, the hair came off in a chunk in his hand. Hanzo looked at it, for a long moment, the way the inky strands slipped from his fingers to pile on the floor as he released his grip. 

Without hesitation, he moved back to do the same thing again, and again. Until he’d shorn off most of the hair that had once fallen nearly to the center of his back. The change was cold, it took weight off of him that he hadn’t realized was there. In more than one way. And as the hair piled across the floor, Hanzo felt a sort of grim satisfaction. There was one way he could distance himself from his family. If they could even be called that. 

It was when someone suddenly grabbed his wrist as he went to shear off his bangs that Hanzo startled. He nearly whipped around to stab whoever had grabbed him, having not noticed them approach. He hadn’t looked in the mirror in a good ten minutes, just watching the hair fall. 

He hadn’t realized there were tears rolling down his face before his father mentioned it. 

“What is wrong with you?” His father looked possibly even more angry than he had been upon finding Hanzo grieving. 

“This is pathetic! You are acting out like a petulant child!” The grip around Hanzo’s wrist was painful, forcing him to drop the knife. Hanzo didn’t meet his father’s eyes this time, he couldn’t. Shame burned through him, hot and sickening. Whether it was shame for what he’d done to his brother, or for disobeying his father, he didn’t know. 

“You have gone and made a mess of yourself, all for nothing. For someone who deserved to die!” The elder snapped, glaring Hanzo down. It was when Hanzo opened his mouth to dare protest that, his father’s fury seemed to intensify, sharp features colored purple with anger. 

“Silence! I will not have you becoming like him! We will fix this, and you will amend this mistake.” Sojiro snarled, hand coming up like lightning to clamp down around the back of Hanzo’s neck. It was with that threatening grip that he dragged his son from the bathroom, shoving him forward into his rooms. Hanzo didn’t have the energy to fight. He’d lost all sense of direction. 

He’d killed his brother, he was a monster. 

He’d acted out, and was a disgrace as well. 

The same anger that’d been directed at Genji when he slipped up was magnified tenfold, and while it didn’t frighten Hanzo, it gave him a kind of sick feeling. Shame was only part of the cocktail of emotions he struggled to swallow as his father’s grip on the back of his neck tightened painfully, forcing him down the hall. 

Silence was almost worse than his father losing his temper. It gave Hanzo time to think, shrinking under his father’s touch. He didn’t know where they were going until they neared his mother’s quarters. His parents slept in two entirely separate areas. But his father didn’t even bother knocking before opening the door to his mother’s room and pushing him inside roughly.

“Our son has properly disgraced us.” Hanzo’s mother had already sat up, squinting against the light flooding into her room at the two figures. Hanzo still wanting to curl in on himself and do anything other than stand there with both of his parents staring at him so.

“Hanzo, what is this?” The woman rose to cross the room, frowning as she saw the impromptu haircut Hanzo had given himself. Her expression didn’t soften, instead she looked over Hanzo’s shoulder to Sojiro, silently asking what was to be done. 

“We need him presentable tomorrow. Fix this.” It was a demand, an order. But Hanzo’s mother took it without protest, nodding and watching Sojiro leave before she turned to Hanzo. It was only then that she softened, reaching up to cup Hanzo’s face in her hands. 

“Hanzo you mustn’t do this.” Her voice dropped, brows pitching down as Hanzo lifted his hands, gripping onto her forearms as he forced down tears again. 

“You cannot let this show. You serve to disgrace your family further.” Hanzo could see his own pain reflected in her eyes as she spoke. His mother had always been softer on them than Sojiro. She’d loved her sons, even if she never let that show in front of others. But she did still apply them to the same standards as their father did. 

“Come, we must take care of this.” She sighed, shaking her head as she sifted her fingers through Hanzo’s hair. Hanzo just dropped his gaze and let her lead him off to the bathroom where she sat him on a chair and told him to hold still. 

She worked in silence as she trimmed his hair, doing her best to make something of the mess he’d left. Hanzo was only at ease around his mother. But he couldn’t relax then. Not knowing even she believed him to be a disgrace as well. Perhaps his father was right. He was just pathetic. Mourning someone his family had deemed worthless. 

“Do you miss him?” It was a low croak, and Hanzo practically winced at the sound of his own voice. He felt his mother pause, scissors stilling beside his ear as they made eye contact in the mirror. Hanzo’s eyes were still rimmed with red, face tearstained. He still wasn’t sober. 

“It is not your place to ask such things.” His mother shook her head, looking back to her work on Hanzo’s hair. But he could see how her expression fell, brows pinching together slightly, corners of her lips twitching down. 

Hanzo didn’t pursue the topic further. He knew it would only earn him a smack on the back of his head and more stern words. His mother may have been softer on him than his father but she was still his elder, and still expected him to be something he no longer wanted to be. 

Finally she set the scissors down, smoothing hands over Hanzo’s hair, eyeing her work. Hanzo didn’t care enough to check in the mirror and see if it was anything flattering. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to look at himself, or his mother. Or anyone, for that matter. His family thought he was almost as much of a disgrace as his brother, and Hanzo didn’t even want to think of the punishment that was waiting for him whenever his father finished stewing in his own anger. 

He was waved off to return to his own rooms, soon enough. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep. His nights had been haunted by the memory of killing Genji. Sometimes warped, other times it would just replay in his head, over and over. But he’d said nothing to his family. It was only another sign of weakness. Another thing for them to pick at, to shame him for. 

So he remained silent, did his best to sleep that night, and abided by his father’s orders in the morning. It was often that he shadowed his father when Sojiro dealt with other clans or lowly gangs. Mostly serving as a bodyguard while he observed the way things were done, but it wasn’t often someone dictated everything down to what he wore. 

The suit bothered him, he felt suffocated. It likely stemmed from the fact that he looked just like every member of his family. But that was to be expected. His father still looked upon him with disapproval, even while fixing his own tie. And still Hanzo said nothing. He was done talking to his so called family. He was sick of it. He wanted no part in what they were doing. 

But he shadowed his father, staying two paces behind the elder man at all times as he trailed after Sojiro. He played by the rules, kept silent during the meeting, simply observing and picking out lies when they passed the lips of the man they spoke with. And yet he wondered what would happen if the man had gone for a weapon. If he’d shot Sojiro and Hanzo did nothing about it. 

He was beginning to entertain the idea of letting exactly that happen. It seemed fitting, he no longer desired to be around his family, in any sense of the word. Hell, he didn’t even consider them family any longer. Perhaps his mother counted. But surely none of his elders, or his father. 

It was when the meeting was dismissed that Sojiro finally rose and looked to his son, silently appraising the heir. Hanzo looked better than he had in a long time, properly dressed and shaven, collected, the picture of everything he should have been. Aside from the impromptu haircut. 

“This is how it should be.” The calm was a stark comparison to his father’s rage from the night previous. 

“You play the part well, now you must simply back it up with honor.” Sojiro continued, folding his hands behind his back as he examined his son. 

“You are our scion, Hanzo, you are everything to this family’s future. I will not have any more of your outbursts. Do you understand me?” Even if there was no defined anger in Sojiro’s words, the threat of violence and being forced into complacency still lingered in his tone. 

Hanzo drew himself up, squaring his shoulders as he eyed his father. After drawing a long breath and wiping all emotion from his face, he gave a slight nod, all the confirmation his father needed. 

He would be whatever his family told him to be.

At least until he decided on another path.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I miiightt? Turn this into something? Idk, depends on what y'all think! So if you think I should continue this please don't hesitate to drop a comment and tell me what you think!


End file.
